


Not Forget

by ladygray99



Series: Soldier Boys [3]
Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Age Difference, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Multi, fathers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-05
Updated: 2010-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygray99/pseuds/ladygray99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some family secrets are bigger than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for and completely the fault of mikes_grrl. Not only did she ask for it but waved a pokie stick in my direction. My beta also recommends a box to tissue warning. This is a continuation on Soldier Boys and Marching Home

Don followed his father quickly through the house, a box of old photos tucked under one of Don's arms.

"Dad…"

"Just leave it, Donnie. Leave the past where it belongs."

Don didn't understand. He'd found the box buried deep in the basement and just wanted to know who was in the pictures. His father had grown agitated, evasive. Don's investigative mind couldn't let it go. Don pulled out a wedding photo he'd never seen before.

"He was your best man."

"Leave it." Alan begged.

Don circled his father driving him into a corner.

"Who is he?" Don asked in a low tone usually reserved for felons.

"Your father for one." Alan snapped suddenly.

Don froze. "Mom had an affair?"

The crack of the slap registered before the flash of pain across his face. Don's jaw dropped, his hand went to his stinging cheek.

"Don't you dare speak of your mother that way." Alan growled.

"But…"

"He loved her and she loved him and I loved them both."

Don blinked and shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. "Dad… I'm… what?"

"Here." Alan pulled a few strands of hair from his head and slapped them on the table. "Run your fancy DNA tests and leave me alone."

~

"Now this is for a case, right?" The lab tech asked.

"Sure, absolutely." Don said as he pushed the sample bags across the lab table.

"Eppes?"

"I'll owe you one."

"Big time."

~

Colby slid his bishop clean across the board. "Check."

Alan blinked a few times and shifted his king in a weak defense.

"You're not on your game tonight."

Alan shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm just…" Alan pettered off with another shake of the head.

"What's wrong?"

"Donnie felt the need to dig up some ghosts. I guess I'm just feeling a little haunted tonight."

Colby reached out and gently brushed fingers down Alan's cheek. "Anything I can do to help?"

Alan sighed, wanting to lean into the too soft touch. "Can you make me forget?"

"Probably not."

"Then can you help me remember?"

~

Don looked at the results.

"So sample A...?"

"Is not related to sample B."

"You're sure?"

"I'd go to court with it."

"And sample C?"

"I'd say B and C are half siblings."

"And D?"

"The DNA on D is degraded a little…" Don had plucked the hairs from an old brush his father had saved. "…but I'm good. I'd say 90% chance we're looking at the common parent between B and C."

"And A and C?"

"Parent, child." Don nodded and tried to process. "What does this mean, Eppes?"

Don sighed. "Means I've got a long talk ahead of me."

~

Don pushed the DNA results across the dining room table.

"Tell me about my father." Don said quietly.

Alan rubbed his hand over his face.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Start with his name."

"Donnie, you don't know how hard this is for me." Alan begged.

"Please."

Alan nodded "Charles Donald Lathrup. Everyone called him Charlie. We met at a party, friend of a friend of a friend. He wasn't even 20, I was older. I dismissed him, he could have been any other surfer. Mop of blond hair, green eyes and no shoes, cracking jokes at the girls gathered around him. Then he made a joke about Kafka and none of the girls laughed but I did and he smiled at me. I felt…" Alan gave his head a tight shake and took a deep breath. "We talked all that night and into the morning. He'd left school at 13 but had read everything. That's what he did, surfed and read and worked at a board shop to keep a leaky roof over his head in winter. He offered to teach me to surf. I just wanted to talk to him more so I said yes. Every morning for weeks he'd take me out on the waves as the sun came up. He moved like the water loved him. It would pick him up so gentle and he'd glide across it." Alan chuckled softly. "The water did not love me. One morning I took a wave I shouldn't have, got dumped, board sliced up my leg. He dragged me out, back to his shack. A cot, 200 books, a couple of boards and a leaky tin roof. He wrapped up my leg and I kissed him."

Don blinked a few times. "You kissed him?"

"Donnie, California still had anti-sodomy laws on the books and we were years away from Stonewall. Remember that. I kissed him, he kissed me back, we had sex on that cot and lord only knows how it held up. We slept for a while woke up and made love. He was so beautiful." Alan whispered. "And so smart and social and…he was everything I wasn't. I was a nerd to rival your brother, serious about everything and he was able to just take life as it happened." Alan took long breaths through clenched teeth. "To this day I don't know why he loved me but he did and I fell so hard it hurt. I wanted to shout it from every rooftop and it was something that couldn't even be whispered in the dark."

Don watched as the man he always considered to be his father carefully held himself together.

"It turns out he was squatting in that shack. My apartment had a spare room and I offered it to him." Alan gave a slightly wicked smirk. "I didn't have a spare bed but I didn't mention that. His books and boards moved into the spare room and he moved into my bed and no one knew. No one ever suspected, not even our closest friends. We had almost a year of that."

"Where does Mom fit in?"

"Sometimes in the middle. Sometimes she just liked to watch."

Don's jaw dropped open. "Dad!"

"Get over it." Alan snapped. "We had to date other people, other women, especially Charlie since he was much better looking. We had to keep up appearances and that meant brining the occasional woman home. That was always hard but…" Alan shrugged. "I saw your mother arguing with a foreman at a construction site breathing wrath and hellfire at him and looking like a goddess in disguise and I felt the same thing I felt the first time Charlie smiled at me. I asked her out and the night went well and I felt myself falling and…it hurt like nothing else. I was being ripped in two. I'd go out with Margaret then home to Charlie and it was killing me. Charlie could tell and Margaret knew something was off." Alan swallowed hard. "I finally couldn't avoid it. I brought her back to the apartment and I introduced her to Charlie and it was the worst kind of moment because I saw the same look on his face that I knew was on mine and then they started talking and they were so good together Donnie, you can't imagine. He could make your mother laugh like no one else." Alan looked far away, lost in memories of good moments.

"Dad?"

Alan shook his head back to the present. "Well, your mother was a very smart woman. Took her about five minutes to work out what was between Charlie and myself and the remarkable thing was she didn't care. Not in the slightest. She was perfectly happy to be a safe front for both of us and I fell for her even more and so did Charlie. Charlie was willing to back away, let Margaret and I have the safe normal life together. I was willing to do the same, they were so perfect together. Well, your mother declared us both idiots among other choice words and pointed out that the choice was hers, not ours."

Don chuckled somehow picturing it.

"I was sure she'd pick Charlie. She chose us both, took us both to her bed and it was…" Alan closed his eyes drifting into memory.

"Dad." Don said softly.

"I'd have dinner with her family and she'd go to surf parties with Charlie and there were all kinds of rumors and none of them were near the truth."

"How'd you end up married to mom?" Don asked.

Alan peered harshly across the table. "Don't use your interrogation voice on me young man."

"I'm sorry, just…"

"Your mother and Charlie wanted to start a family. I was…I couldn't figure out how it would work. The term nontraditional family unit hadn't exactly been coined yet. I was willing to step back again but they were insistent. It would be the three of us, somehow." Alan sighed. "It came down to our families. Margaret was getting pressure to get married, so was I, Charlie had no family. If they had married I'd have to fight off pressure from my family to find someone else and your mother's family may not have like me that much but at least I was a good Jewish boy with a job, unlike that goy surf bum she was fond of." Alan chewed on his lip a little. "So we were engaged, put a down payment on the house, got married, Charlie was my best man and your mother looked so beautiful. And we said vows and accepted blessing and had a party and they sent us up to the honeymoon suite and we went in and sat down and we waited."

Alan fell silent again but Don didn't push.

"We had to wait a long time. We hardly said a word and late that night Charlie came to us and I had a third ring in my pocket that had been there all day and together we put in on his finger and we said our vows again with no one to bless them but it didn't matter. He was my husband and I was his and Margaret was our wife and that night…" Alan wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Have you ever had a moment where you were no longer sure where your body ended and someone else's began? Where you weren't sure if the breath you're hearing or the heart pounding is even yours and it doesn't matter?"

"I've come close a few times."

"Charlie wore his ring around his neck and we made a pretence of renting the spare room to him. Young couple short on cash renting a room to their best friend, again no one questioned. He had to wear his ring to bed though, that was the rule and it was always the three of us. He still had to go out with a girl now and then but there was no brining them home. There was sanctity to our marriage even if no one could see it." Alan said firmly. "And it was good, Donnie, the three of us, we completed each other, Charlie brought joy and laughter and your mother that wonderful common sense of hers. And they were so beautiful. Some nights I'd just sit at the foot of the bed and watch them, they moved like angels." Alan whispered, drifting away into memory again. "Well it didn't take long for your mother to get pregnant. I remember she was so nervous telling us. Thought we'd become jealous or something. We were so happy. Charlie had no family. Doted on your mother every moment. Anything she wanted was hers. I think his foot rubs were the only thing that kept your mother from killing the both of us." Alan fell silent, a dark shadow creeping across his face.

"Dad?"

"I only tried to rub her feet once when she got pregnant again. She just looked at me, got up, walked out of the room." Alan took a deep breath. "Charlie and your mother had such amazing plans for you. Charlie wanted to baptize you in the ocean so you'd always know it and it would know you. We wanted everything about you to be a surprise. We didn't even ask the doctors if you were going to be a boy or a girl. For the sake of your mother's reputation we hoped you wouldn't come out blond but other than that..."

Don ran a hand across his short, dark hair.

"Charlie was there when your mother went into labor. I met them at the hospital and he was in such a panic. He was always so sure and easy and calm about everything it was easy to forget he was younger than your mother and I. We paced around that waiting room for hours and when the nurse carried you out and handed you to me I knew you were his." Alan said softly.

"I'm… I'm sorry." Don stuttered out.

"No, oh no, Donnie, you don't understand. I was happy. There you were, so little and perfect, one half the woman I loved most in the world and one half the man I loved more than anything and by the arcane rules of society I got to call you my son. If your mother and Charlie had wanted a dozen children I would have loved and raised all of them, but we never exactly got that far." Don watched as Alan rubbed at his eyes again. "He loved you so much Donnie. He told people he was your nanny. He doted on you every moment and when your mother wanted to go back to work he took over full time care of you, and believe me in '68 that raised some eyebrows."

Don chuckled at the image.

"He didn't care. He loved you. Everyday I'd watch him take such good care of you and everyday I'd see more of him in you."

"Like what?" Don asked softly.

"You're built like him." Alan said. "Slim, strong. You got his smile and his hands and his laugh. I don't know how many times I've heard you laughing in another room and whipped around so sure he was about to walk through the door." Don watched as Alan's voice cracked and tears squeezed from his eyes.

"What happened?"

"Draft." Alan snapped. "First number, first day. And I begged him not to go, I would have done anything. I offered to make out with him at his physical, I offered to divorce your mother so he could marry her, be listed as head of household with a dependent. I offered to pick up all four of us and go to Canada. Anything."

"He went." Don said softly.

"He promised he'd come back. I told him not to make promises he couldn't keep. He promised to come back to me, to us." The tears were flowing now as Alan's breath hitched and choked.

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know." Alan sobbed. "We got one telegram, MIA, then nothing. All these years not a word and his name's on that damn wall but they don't know."

"I remember…" Don said softly. "I remember you crying and the news was on, helicopters lifting off the tops of building."

Alan nodded. "I kept trying to see the faces of the soldiers, hoping I'd catch a glimpse, that somehow he'd made it out." Alan took deep breaths. "It was the questions I couldn't handle in the end. Why the pictures, why his things, why are you mourning so long? And I couldn't explain, I couldn't say out loud things that were still so secret, I couldn't tell people that I'd lost my husband, my lover, the father of my child. In the end your mother packed away his things because I couldn't, I boxed up the photos and…" Alan shrugged.

"God, Dad, why didn't you tell me?"

"Do you even remember him, Donnie? You were his whole world for two years, do you even remember him?"

Don shook his head. "No."

~

Don sat on his bed and went through the pictures one at a time, innocent yet incriminating. Charlie and Alan, two best friends' arms slung around each other, hips pressing just a little too close. Charlie and Margaret goofing off for the camera the way comfortable lovers do.

Don closed his eyes to find a fractured memory he was never able to place. The feeling of being lifted, spun around, a man in green, olive drab his adult mind supplied, a smile, eyes green-blue like the ocean, bright where his parents and brother all looked at him from eyes dark brown.

Don looked at the anniversary photo of his parents, him and Charlie. He squinted and could almost see the void, the empty spot where a fifth person should have stood.

~

Alan opened the door. Colby stood there, eyes full of mischief.

"You shouldn't have come." Alan said.

"You asked."

"You should have said no."

Colby took a step inside pulling the door shut behind him. He reached out and cupped Alan's cheek "Let me be what you need."

"What I need and what I want are two different things."

Colby leaned forward and breathed in Alan's ear. "Then let me be what you want."

~

Don paced his bedroom surrounded by photos that told half truths worse than lies. He picked up the DNA results and pulled out his own, running his finger across alleles that bore no match to provided samples.

~

Alan gasped, it all felt wrong. Two hands where there should have been four, two breaths where there should have been three. Alan let go, memory and reality blurring together. Someone cried out. It didn't matter who or when. For a blinding moment everything was the now.

~

Don paid no attention to Colby's truck parked out front. Colby seemed to come by more and more often for a combination of chess and a home cooked meal. Don couldn't blame him for that.

Don let himself in expecting to hear the click of chess pieces on the well-used board. The house was strangely still. Don stepped on something. There was a tie on the floor. It was pink and orange, it was hideous, it was an offence to tie making, it had prompted Don to ask Colby if he was red/orange color blind. Colby. It was Colby's tie and it was on the floor.

Don picked up the tie and carefully made his way into the house wishing he had his gun. Something wasn't right.

Over the banister, right at the bottom, a sweater hung off it. Don picked it up. It was one of his father's, a birthday present a few years back from someone. An unpleasant thought welled up in the pit of Don's stomach and flipped over.

Don slowly climbed the stairs and made his way down the hall. He found a suit jacket crumpled on the floor and his father's shoes a little further down.

The door to his father's room was cracked open just a sliver. Every rational thought in Don's head was screaming at him to turn away, just walk away and go home. Don reached out and pushed open the door.

The room was dark, the opened door sending a shaft of light across the bed. Colby looked up, blinking at him, curled around his father as if to shield him from a blast. Colby closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Alan's bare shoulder, whispering something, before silently slipping from the bed.

Don closed the door and leaned against the wall, his heart pounding so hard and fast he could barely hear.

The door opened and Colby stepped out fully dressed except for jacket and tie. He pulled the door closed and looked at Don. The silence filled with a million unasked questions.

"Why?" Don finally managed.

"I have issues. He can pretend I'm someone I'm not." Colby took the tie that dangled from Don's fingers. "You'll have my transfer request in the morning."

Don watched as Colby vanished down the hall before sliding to the floor. The bedroom door opened again. Don looked up. Alan peered down at him, something sad in his face, before shaking his head and closing the door with a decisive click.


	2. Chapter 2

Colby was filling out paperwork and keeping his head down when his transfer request was slapped down in front of him the word ‘denied’ stamped across it.  Colby tensed as Don leaned in close, lips nearly pressed to his ear.

“The first time I ever saw my father cry was watching the fall of Saigon.”  A scrap of paper was placed on top of the transfer request.  It had a name and a couple of dates. “Use your contacts, find this man.”

~

Colby opened the folder. Don sat across from him, the blinds in the conference room pulled shut for privacy.

“Private Charles Donald Lathrup,” Colby read carefully, “born September 24, 1945, Ottumwa, Iowa, parents listed as deceased in 1958.  Drafted through the Los Angeles induction center in 1970, passed his physical with no notes, listed as 1-A, went through basic with no note for or against him, sent to Vietnam May 1970 where he was assigned as light infantry.”

Colby paused. “That’s it?” Don asked.

Colby shook his head. “No.” He opened a thicker folder. “His company was in an area that saw a lot of action.  He would have been in it from day one.  In September of 1970 his platoon was moving, took a bit of a wrong turn, got ambushed. The CO was killed almost immediately.” Colby flipped through yellowed, hand written forms. “Private Lathrup organized a defensive line while air support was called for.  Then, according to reports he managed to get a squad out of the line of fire, into the jungle and ambushed their ambush taking several prisoners in the process and saving the rest of the platoon.  He was awarded a silver star for courage and tactical brilliance under fire.”

Don frowned. “What? No way? I mean, this guy was a surfer with a fondness for Kafka.”

Colby leveled a hard look at Don. “Don, you were a minor league ball player with a fondness for blondes.  How long did it take before the Bureau had you teaching tactics?”

Don shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Colby flipped through a few more files “His unit continued to engage in regular action. There are several recommendations for officer training in his file.  It looks like his CO wanted to see him join up proper.  Then in mid ’71 they were transferred to an area along the Cambodian border.  October 14th, 1971, he went out with a squad on a night patrol, the squad radioed in that they were exchanging fire with the enemy and…that’s it.”

“That’s it?” Don practically squeaked. “It just…”

“The squad didn’t return from patrol.  I did some more digging but you’ve got to understand, Don, this stuff, none of it's on computers, lots has been lost or destroyed.  Four bodies were retrieved, four were listed MIA including Private Lathrup.  A message was sent to next of kin informing them of the change in status.”

“That’s what it’s called? A change in status!?”

Colby sighed.  “In ’76 two members of that squad were returned as part of a prisoner exchange but if there’s any record of what happened to Private Lathrup it’s long gone.  I’ve got the last names of the guys returned but they’re Smith and Gonzolas.” Don winced. “Yeah, I’m trying to shake down the VA for more info but… It’s been 30 years, Don, it’ll take some time.”

Don nodded. “MIA.”

“Limbo. You know Don the DoD has a group that’s still going in and finding remains, doing DNA comparisons, and if I can find those two guys they might know something, and you hear stories sometimes, weird rumors, but...” Colby shook his head.

“So that’s it.”

“Well not quite.  There was a bit of a paperwork snafu.  His personal effects should have been returned to next of kin,” Colby lifted a battered cardboard box off the floor and placed it on the table “…but they took a bit of a detour and ended up in a warehouse in Bethesda.”

Don looked at the box.  Cracked yellowed tape was still in place. “You didn’t open it?”

“No.”

Don ran his hand over his face a few times a cold chill seeping into him as if Charles Lathrup’s bones were sitting in the box.

“Who’s listed as next of kin?”

“Donald Eugene Eppes.”

“I see.” Don looked at the box.

Colby started to stand. “I’ll just…”

“No. Stay.” Don stood and used a pocket knife to cut through the half fossilized cellophane.  He lifted the flaps, half expecting nothing but moth eaten dust.  A uniform lay on top, carefully folded.  Don lifted it out and gently set it aside. Underneath were half a dozen Hawaiian shirts, sheltered from the sun they were still riots of colors.  Don unfolded the top one and held it up to himself.

“It’s you.” Colby said dryly.

Don chuckled and set the shirts aside.  Next he pulled out a small box and flipped it open.  A silver star, still shiny, gleamed out at him.  Don felt a lump rise in his throat and he snapped the box shut setting it aside.

Then there were books, Metamorphosis, Leaves of Grass, the Martian Chronicles.  Don flipped open the Martian Chronicles and chuckled, flipping it around and showing the title page to Colby.

“Autographed.”

“Cool.”

Don placed the books aside.

Then there were letters, bundled up in string that fell apart in Don’s fingers.  Don recognized the handwriting on them.  Some his father’s, some his mother’s.  Don picked out one with his mother’s handwriting and carefully opened it.  A single piece of paper was folded inside.

“Donnie says it’s a house.” Don read from the paper.  Don unfolded it to find a collection of crayon scribbles.  Don flipped it around until the blue scribbles were at the top, the green scribbles were at the bottom, and the boxy brown scribble was in the middle.

Don put it back, not wanting to risk finding love letters he had no business reading.

He looked at the things sitting on the table, the last objects to represent the life of a man Don couldn’t remember.

“What do I do with this, Colby?” Don asked. “I have one vague memory of someone who might have been him but… I mean… I guess it should go to Dad but…”  Don looked at the stack of letters.

“Don,” Colby said softly. “He hasn’t grieved, not properly, not at all.  Some part of him still expects Private Charlie Lathrup to come strolling up the front walk, green eyes and sunny smiles, not looking a day over 25 and it’s not going to happen, and I honestly can’t tell you what losing that last… hope will do to him.  He’s in as much a state of limbo as Private Lathrup here.”

Don sighed and began to repack the box. “I guess it should go to dad any which way.”  Don went to pick up the small box holding the Silver Star.  Colby’s hand came down on top of his.

“That one stays with you, Don.”

“It does?”

Colby nodded. “Oldest living son.”

~

Don watched as his father held the Hawaiian shirt to his chest, eyes squeezed shut. No tears came but he gasped for air like a man half drowned.

“Thank you,” he managed to say softly.

~

Colby opened his front door.  Alan stood there looking wan and rattled.

“You shouldn’t let me use you like this.” Alan said.

“I could say the same thing.”

“I’ll get you in trouble.”

“I’m already in trouble, it doesn’t matter.”

Alan stepped in, shutting the door behind him.

~

It was 3 a.m. when Alan came through the front door.  Charlie looked up at him from a paper grading marathon and shook his head.

“You couldn’t just buy a red sports car like every other guy?” Charlie asked.

“Leave me alone, Charlie.”

“Dad, seriously I wouldn’t get too attached.  He’s pissed off Don enough times, one more strike and he’s going to be finishing off his career in Anchorage.”

~

Alan handed the letter to Don.  Don flipped it around in his hands.

“It’s not opened.”

Alan shook his head. “It arrived two days after the telegram, I couldn’t open it.”

Don tried to hand it back. “It’s addressed to you.”

Alan shook his head again. “No.”

~

The DNA tech flipped the letter around in her hands. “And when was this mailed?”

Don grimaced “1971?”

“And you want DNA?”

“Hey, you are the best.”

“Eppes..?”

“It’s important.”

“It’s a waste of taxpayer’s money.”

Don sighed. “What caused that letter to ever be sent was a waste of taxpayer money. Please?”

“And I suppose you want it run against the samples from before?”

“Just sample B.”

“I’m a little backlogged.  I’ll run it this weekend.”

Don smiled. “I’ll owe you.”

“You keep saying that Eppes, one of these days I’m going to collect.”

~

Alan smiled as Colby’s breath slid down the back of his neck, warming parts of him he thought long frozen and dead. Colby’s hands slid across his face.  Part of Alan’s mind was confused, knowing that strong hands should smell of salt and sand, board wax and baby powder.  Colby’s hands smelled of soap and gun oil but he was getting used to it.

“Do you know how to surf, Colby?” Alan asked.

“I’m from Idaho.” Colby said with a chuckle.

“I think you’d like it.  You should let me teach you.”

~

Don looked at the results. “I wasn’t able to get much.  Had to melt down practically the entire envelope, stamp and all but I got an 85% sample which would be iffy in court but…”

“What about the comparison?”

“Well again, I wouldn’t take it to court but I’d say good chance we’re looking at the missing parent for sample B.”

Don ran his hand over the results, a simple black and white page mapping out matching alleles. “Hello, Dad,” he said softly.

~

Don pushed the letter across to Alan.  He had read it locked in his apartment and grieved at the words. “You should read it.”

“No, Donnie.”

“It’s meant for you.”

Alan took it carefully. “I’ll read it tonight.”

~

_My Love,  
    It is late and growing cold as I write this.  It’s odd to think of this place as ever cold but it does happen like that first chill in the air around Halloween.  I hope you are well as you read this.  I got the last set of pictures you sent, I look at them, just one a day, savoring each one until you send more, waiting for the day when I can be part of your memories again instead of this distant viewer of your life._

_    I thought you should know I wear my ring all the time now.  There’s no one who knows me as anything other than Private Lathrop, no one to ask questions, and it’s better than having it clink against my dog tags.  When people do ask I talk of Margaret and Donnie.  Oh how I wish I could speak of you in the same way, you whom I loved first and truly.  The kids here think I’m a sentimental old fool.  And they are kids.  Eighteen, nineteen.  They call me the old man, twenty-five years puts me older and wiser than most of them._

_They tell me with a wife and kid I should have gotten out, I grit my teeth to keep from blurting out the truth.  Some days I’m tempted to but at what cost to the family I tell myself.  And even if they did nothing more than chuck me out they would just drag up another kid in my place.  Every day I stay someone ages out and someone ages in._

_    But I find every day that our ‘kids’ our older than their kids.  We so rarely see who we are fighting and when we do more often than not I’m looking into the face of someone a decade younger than myself.  I find I just want to grab them and shake them, tell them to just go home, go back to their mothers who are worried.  Of course, it would do little good.  There’s no going back for them and they’ve all been told horror stories of what will happen if they are captured by us.  I fear some of them may be true._

_    I will be so glad when I can return to you and Margaret and Donnie.  I hope you are teaching him how to swim because as soon as I return I’m teaching him to surf.  I want to spend every day in the water until this place is washed from my body and soul.  They say the ocean is big enough to hold every memory, perhaps it is so, maybe it will hold the memories of this place for me so I can forget them and return to you as I was._

_    It is getting late now and I have patrol.  I’ll send this before I leave._

_    Give my love to Margaret and Donnie and as always my deepest love to you.  
    Charlie  _  
~

Colby held Alan as he cried, the tears seemed never to end.  Thirty seven years of unshed tears flooding out.  Alan shook in his arms like a man with a fever, burning away the illness of secrets and lies.  Half formed screams spoke of grief society didn’t allow.

Colby held him closer and told himself that he would keep holding him for as long as necessary.

~

Colby handed a couple of pieces of paper to Don in the break room.

“Don, I need a couple of days off.”

“Really?”

“Just a long weekend in a few weeks, a Friday and Monday.” Colby knew he sounded like he was pleading. “I haven’t taken time off in ages.”

“Would this have anything to do with the trip my dad has suddenly planed to an undisclosed location?”

Colby sighed. “Come on, Don, just give me the two days.”

~

Chill early morning mist still hung over the Wall, giving it a ghostly feel.  Appropriate, Alan thought, all the white marble monuments like mausoleums, homes for the dead.

Alan reached out and ran his fingers over the cool black stone, ran his fingers over a name he knew as well as his own.

He took two things from his pocket, a baseball card, Don’s last year with the Rangers, and a picture; him and Charlie in their tuxes, Margaret resplendent in white. Alan placed them at the base of the wall, below a name that was carved in his heart long before it was ever carved in stone.

Alan touched the stone again and Colby wrapped his arms around him from behind. Alan took a deep breath and, for a moment, let himself find comfort.


End file.
